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He might be himself a conspirator; he might possibly be crazed; or possibly his whole story was straight and true. The aged gentleman in the bottle-green coat, in finding himself alone with Mr. Justice Harbottle, had become agitated. He said,
I've worn some leather out abroad; let out a heathen soul or two; fed this good sword with the black blood of pagan Christians; converted a few individuals with it. But let that pass. The Hall was thrown into some little agitation, a few days since, by the arrival of General Harbottle. He had been expected for several days, and had been looked for rather impatiently by several of the family.
The Doctor was at home again before the prescription was made up, which took Harbottle, his servant, such a long time in compounding; and, during the remainder of Arthur's illness, poor Fanny never made her appearance in the quality of nurse at his chambers any more.
Samuel Harbottle -a white-whiskered and rubicund gentleman, who was entitled to use most of the letters of the alphabet after his name should he so choose. I was presented to both these gentlemen, and in a few minutes they took their departure. 'Poor old Harbottle! said Arncliffe, when the door had closed behind the leader-writer.
Harbottle been telling you? Anna asked him. The young man's eye followed Judy, his hand went musingly to his moustache. 'She was telling me, he said, 'that people in India were sepulchers of themselves, but that now and then one came who could roll away another's stone. 'It sounds promising, said Lady Chichele to me. 'It sounds cryptic, I laughed to Somers, but I saw that he had the key.
Harbottle and myself it became a matter for reference more or less overt, I mean her defined problem, the thing that went about between her and the sun. It will be imagined that it did not come up like the weather; indeed, it was hardly ever to be envisaged and never to be held; but it was always there, and out of our joint consciousness it would sometimes leap and pass, without shape or face.
The veranda was spacious and open, their mutual observation had room and freedom; I watched it to and fro. I had not long to wait for my reward; the beautiful candour I expected between them was not ten minutes in coming. For the sake of it I had taken some trouble, but when I perceived it revealing I went and sat down beside Judy's husband, Robert Harbottle, and talked about Pharaoh's split hoof.
Chichele were still 'great friends'; we could still put them next each other at our dinner-parties without the feeling that it would be 'marked. There was still nothing unusual in the fact that when Mrs. Harbottle was there Mr. Chichele might be taken for granted. We were so broad-minded also, on the frontier. It grew more obvious, the maternal note.
It was a March evening, near the hour of sunset, with an east wind whistling sharply through the chimney-stacks. A wood fire blazed cheerily on the hearth. And Judge Harbottle, in what was then called a brigadier-wig, with his red roquelaure on, helped the glowing effect of the darkened chamber, which looked red all over like a room on fire.
Harbottle, and to recognize a certain distinction in the fact that one was the only person with whom Mr. Chichele discussed her at all. The day came when we talked of Robert; it was bound to come in the progress of any understanding and affectionate colloquy which had his wife for inspiration.
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